


Best Day Ever

by come_slyther



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crushes, Ferret-faced prat, Hogwarts Eighth Year, I love supportive Ron, M/M, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Party, terrible flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:17:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/come_slyther/pseuds/come_slyther
Summary: “We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Potter sighed. Draco heard the soft give of the mattress as Potter sat down.“We are, but I don’t see why you’re on my bed, Harry,” Draco said dryly, pleased that he didn’t sound like he was thisclose to hyperventilating.Potter smirked. “Don’t you want me in your bed, Draco?” He dropped back onto his elbows, lolling easily on the bed.Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Are you flirting with me?”“Yes!”“What?!”





	Best Day Ever

**Author's Note:**

> A short little ficlet with a lot less angst than the last one! Just a bit of fun this time :)

This was the worst day ever.

Draco knocked his fourth Firewhisky back and blew a smoke ring lazily. He fervently hoped it would keep the headache in his left temple at bay. His cheeks felt flushed from the combination of all the people crammed into the common room and the several drinks he’d consumed. It wasn’t that he was _nervous_ to be here. He was just…overwhelmed.

Eighth Year had seemed like a prison sentence when Draco had first stepped back into the newly-rebuilt Great Hall, the only returning Slytherin. He was assaulted by memories of the Battle; for a moment, he could hear the chilling, high pitched laughter of the Dark Lord, and smell the acrid tang of hexes in the air, like burned matchsticks. If he’d known then that all the returning Eighth Years were going to be roomed together in one of the old unused guest towers, and that he’d end up with Potter, Weasley and Longbottom – because karma was a bigger bitch than he was - he might just have turned around and walked himself straight to Azkaban.

Instead, he’d allowed himself one day to sulk, before he put his head down and got started on apologising. It seemed to be a fruitless task until Harry Potter’s public acceptance of his apology, with a handshake no less. It was a relief to finally be able to walk to lessons without suffering a Stinging Hex, or having his satchel mysteriously split in half with a murmured Diffindo. It had been draining to expend all his energy on not reacting, so he wouldn’t violate the terms of his probation.

And now, almost four months since the start of the school year, he found himself at the Eighth Year Christmas party, seated on a couch with Longbottom and Granger, wishing he could roll the sleeves of his black dress shirt just a little but not wanting to disturb the delicate peace he seemed to have brokered by flashing his Mark.

“Budge up, Malfoy.”

Draco looked up, straight into the ridiculously green eyes of Harry Potter. Adorably rumpled, somewhat drunk Harry Potter. Stupid Chosen Prat Harry Potter. Unrequited love of his life Harry Potter. Draco felt his mouth go dry as he took in wild black curls and a full, soft mouth and _cheekbones for days._ He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but his Fifth Year crush on Potter had evolved into something too big, too all-consuming for Draco to name.

He may have stared a tad too long, because Potter’s left eyebrow went up questioningly. Draco rolled his eyes but made some space, Granger’s Gillywater swishing precariously up the sides of her glass as she also moved down, not taking a second’s pause from the conversation with Longbottom that Draco had long-since checked out from.

“It’s nice that you turned up,” Potter said, his voice very close to Draco’s ear, their bodies pressed from shoulder to thigh. That was the thing about having Gryffindor friends; they were so _tactile_.

“Yes, well, your pleading was becoming embarrassing for us both.”

Potter looked like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I thought you’d have loved to see me beg.”

Potter’s tone was just a little too low and rumbly, and his sweet whisky breath tingled across Draco’s neck. He felt his already warm face flush a little darker and he discreetly undid the top button of his shirt.

“Hot, Malfoy?” Potter smirked, his voice low.

_Yeah, for you. Fucking hell. What you do to me, Potter._

“Excuse me,” Draco muttered as he extricated himself from the couch as gracefully as he could, feeling light-headed. “I need a drink.” He swept his gaze quickly over Harry’s face and imagined he saw a flicker of disappointment. _Must be more drunk than I thought. That’ll teach me to skip dinner._

He walked right past the drinks table, setting his empty glass down, and hurried up to his dorm. The room was blissfully cool, the lead-paned windows letting in a slight chill to wash over his heated skin. He huffed out a sigh and quickly tugged his shirt off, grabbing a t-shirt from his wardrobe.

He startled slightly when the door opened, whipping around to see Potter standing in the doorway, one arm above his head, pulling his loose white t-shirt up slightly to reveal a strip of café au lait skin. Potter had lost his pinched, post-war look and had become deliciously lithe, leanly-muscled with a sharp jaw and strong forearms that made Draco’s stomach squirm a little.

“Hey you,” Potter said softly. His eyes travelled down Draco’s chest; he could practically _feel_ his gaze, slow and heavy like treacle. Draco automatically turned his left arm, shielding his Mark from view.

“Potter,” he muttered, spinning around to pull his top on. Before he could do so, he felt Potter come up behind him, warm fingers on his shoulder.

“You can call me Harry, you know,” Potter said.

“Why would I do that?” Draco stepped forward a little and got dressed quickly. He felt oddly vulnerable with Potter standing behind him, not close enough to touch but close enough for Draco to feel the heat coming off him in waves.

“We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Potter sighed. Draco heard the soft give of the mattress as Potter sat down.

“We are, but I don’t see why you’re on my bed, _Harry_ ,” Draco said dryly, pleased that he didn’t sound like he was _thisclose_ to hyperventilating.

Potter smirked. “Don’t you want me in your bed, _Draco_?” He dropped back onto his elbows, lolling easily on the bed.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Are you _flirting_ with me?”

“Yes!”

“What?!”

Draco watched in fascination as a deep flush stained Potter’s cheeks and he sat back up, picking at the bedsheets. _Please, please, please,_ Draco thought fervently.

“Yes, I’m flirting with you. _Because_ , you git, I bloody like you and I spoke to Ron about it and he said that although you’re still a ferret-faced prat, I should, y’know, _flirt_ and stuff-”

Discarding all sense of decorum, Draco launched himself gracelessly at Harry, sending him sprawling back onto the mattress (and knocking their knees together somewhat less romantically), strong hands coming up automatically to his waist.

“Shut up, Potter,” Draco smiled as he pinned the other boy down on the bed. “I like you too.”

Potter’s answering grin was somewhat relieved and he brought a hand up to cup Draco’s jaw. “I really want to kiss you,” he whispered, sending a thrill of heat shooting down Draco’s spine. “But I’m quite drunk and I’d really like to remember our first kiss.”

Draco couldn’t help but melt a little at his words. “How about we have breakfast by the Great Lake tomorrow and you can kiss me there?”

“That sound pretty perfect,” Potter smiled.

They shared a moment, just grinning at each other, until Draco started to feel a little embarrassed and he rolled off Potter.

“Right, shove off Potter. I want to go to bed.”

Harry chuckled. “Are you ever going to call me Harry?” he asked as he stood, watching Draco scoot under the covers.

Draco just rolled his eyes fondly and drew his curtains, leaving Potter to laugh exasperatedly and move over to his own bed.

“Night, Harry,” Draco whispered as he closed his eyes. In the darkness, he allowed himself a brilliant smile.

This was the best day ever.

 


End file.
